


Eleven: Thigh Kiss (The Kiss of Fire)

by Terrantalen



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [1]
Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Coming Home To Roost, M/M, The Mirrorball Suit, Thigh Kiss, and consequences thereof, kiss kiss, tumblr ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrantalen/pseuds/Terrantalen
Summary: Sometimes, it takes a few weeks to start regretting your choices.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195373
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: Trash Triplets Present (to our own surprise): The Completely Spontaneous Kiss Kiss Week Collection





	Eleven: Thigh Kiss (The Kiss of Fire)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kateyboosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/gifts).



It takes a few weeks for Noel to start having regrets.

When they were planning the live tour, it was one of the first things he decided. He’d only had about five minutes of screen time in the mirrorball suit and that was an awful waste for something so genius. It’s so flash, so _look at me_ , so mesmeric when he moves in it, or even stays still in it, and he feels gorgeous in it, and it’s so fucking Vince; the reasons he chose it go on and on, and he still wants it, and isn’t planning to stop wanting it, so, it’s not really regret.

Just sort of… an acknowledgement of certain facts, a recognition of certain negative consequences that come from wrapping himself in skin-tight sequins for a few hours a night, several nights a week for a couple of months straight.

Julian had laughed when he’d seen the fit the first time. He’d looked down at Noel’s crotch, quick-like, yeah, but still unmistakable, just like Noel knew he would, and he’d chuckled. An okay, Fielding, you tart, sort of chuckle that Noel interpreted to mean that Julian was going to enjoy helping him with the back zip later on.

It’s not like he asked for the jumpsuit to get cut so tight. At least, he didn’t outright _demand_ it be made so snug across the hips and thighs. He just told the seamstress to take half an inch off the measurements when she was reading them back to him.

He knows what size trousers he wears, doesn’t he? And, anyway, there is no denying that the thing fits him like a fucking glove, and if _certain things_ end up getting highlighted, well. Sort of the point.

He never thought it would end up becoming a problem.

Except now, as he looks down at the reddened skin of his thighs and feels his poor cock rebelling even against the gentle contact of his cotton pants, he has to acknowledge that maybe it wasn’t the best choice.

He sighs and pulls his jeans up to his knees. The redness starts right above his kneecap and only gets worse the higher up his thighs he looks. He mentally prepares himself to pull his jeans all the way up.

_After-party_ , he tells himself. There’s going to be an after-party, with dancing and drinks and music and everyone is waiting for him. All he has to do to get there is pull the trousers up. He takes a deep breath and fists his hands around the waistband. He exhales and then—

“If you just wore looser trousers, you’d be fine,” Julian says.

Noel jumps. He turns and sees him standing in the threshold of his dressing room. “Christ, Ju. Want to knock next time?”

“No,” Julian says flatly. “Want to get your trousers on so we can get going?”

Noel starts pulling his trousers up, but the denim feels like murder. He stops with them about halfway up his thighs and shakes his head. “This fucking hurts.”

The smile on Julian’s face isn’t even a little sympathetic. It’s actually the opposite.

“Whatever.” Noel releases the useless edge of his unbearably tight trousers. “You don’t know what it’s like to sacrifice your body for your art.”

Julian laughs. “I’m mostly naked out there every night.”

Noel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you like that!”

“And you like your tight little outfits that prevent anyone from needing half an imagination to guess what you’d look like without them.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like all this bloody chafing!”

Julian steps all the way into the dressing room and shuts the door behind him. He looks down at Noel’s thighs. “Have you tried powder?”

“Powder? Am I ninety? Powder is for nans and invalids.”

“It might help absorb some of the moisture or something.”

“What? Did you go out and get a contract with Gold Bond when I wasn’t looking? And it’s not from sweat, is it? It’s the fucking sequins. They’re like sandpaper, wearing me down.”

“Glam rock DIY?” Julian asks. Noel doesn’t even crack a smile. “Someone’s a little cranky tonight.”

“I’m not _cranky_ , I just… It’s uncomfortable, and it looks gross, and I just think you could try being sympathetic for a change, yeah?”

“Looks gross?”

“All red and creepy,” Noel says, looking down at his puffy, irritated skin. “It’s awful, Ju. My thighs look a lumpy old man’s face. Like I’ve got fleas. I hate it.”

When Noel looks up again, Julian is smiling at him, but it’s a different smile. A darker smile.

He walks toward him, slow and assured. “There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” he says softly. He dusts his fingers across Noel’s hip. His thumb traces the top of Noel’s thigh and he glances down. “It’s just a little red. I’m sorry, though. That it hurts.”

“It does,” Noel says, following Julian’s eyeline down. He plucks at Julian’s jumper. He looks up into Julian’s eyes, tries to make his own as big as possible. He wasn’t expecting it, but if Julian is offering, he’s not about to say no. “Kiss it better, Ju?”

Julian smirks. He drops down on one knee, then the other. His chest is pressed against Noel’s kneecaps, his hands resting feather-light on the backs of his legs. He looks up. “You really think this will help?”

Noel leans back against the counter, fairly sure he knows where this is going to end up. “Dunno. Maybe. Probably.”

Julian tilts his head. His face falls into the shadow cast by Noel’s body as he leans forward. His breath ghosts across Noel’s skin and Noel shivers. Julian’s nose touches him first, then the prickle of his moustache, and then velvet-soft lips, and a soothing swipe of tongue that Noel feels in places other than the tensing muscle of his thigh.

Julian pulls away. “Better?” he asks.

“Mmm,” Noel hums. He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Starting to feel a bit better, yeah. Maybe keep going, though?”

Julian raises a brow at him. “After,” he says, standing. He gives Noel a peck on the lips. “Come on. Get those trousers up, Fielding. We’ve got a party to go to.” He turns and walks toward the door, stopping with his hand on the handle. He looks over his shoulder. “Get a wriggle on. The quicker you put those on, the quicker I can take them off you again.”

“Promise?”

Julian only smiles at him and then opens the door. “Hurry up,” he calls from the corridor.

Noel barely notices the slight burn when he pulls his trousers all the way up.

**Author's Note:**

> For Kateyboosh, beloved soup snake <3


End file.
